


Small Acts of Love & Defiance

by Kierkegarden



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: All female cast + Anakin, Arranged Marriage, Bittersweet, F/F, Fake Marriage, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Jedi Critical, Mutual Pining, No Beta Editor We Die Like Men, Non-consensual truth serum use, Romance, Strong Female Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23925436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kierkegarden/pseuds/Kierkegarden
Summary: “I get to marry Ahsoka?” Barriss blurted out, her voice a pitch too high.Luminara gave her a thunderous look. “No. You get to carry out a very precarious negotiation under the guise of a marriage rite.”Ahsoka looked at Barriss. Her eyes were guarded, processing the ludicrous request. Ahsoka had seen that expression before, amidst the rubble on Geonosis -- frantic, trapped, even fearful despite her reserve.“It’ll be fun,” Ahsoka offered shakily, still trying to process it herself. She blotted her face with a napkin and looked down at her hands, “It’ll be fun.”What it says on the tin.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Barriss Offee & Luminara Unduli, Barriss Offee/Ahsoka Tano, Breha Organa & Ahsoka Tano, Padmé Amidala & Ahsoka Tano, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 24
Kudos: 138





	Small Acts of Love & Defiance

**Author's Note:**

> So a few things to note:
> 
> 1\. In the wise words of one of my favorite fic writers from the mid 2000s, this plot goes down like corn chip in the esophagus. Don't sue me for convoluted scenarios, incorrect details, self indulgent character choices, blablablabla. It's my playground and I'll go down the slide face first screaming if I want to.  
> 2\. Barriss and Ahsoka are both sixteen in this. I probably aged them up from the time frame in canon, but this is still underage in some countries. Sex is implied, not gratuitously described. Read at your own risk.
> 
> It's 2:33 am, folks. I reserve the right to edit in the morning.

“You never take me to lunch before a mission,” Ahsoka leaned back against the red vinyl seat and narrowed her eyes at her Master, “You are only ever motivated to _reward_ me when you actually want to reward yourself.”

“That is no way for a Padawan to speak to her Master,” Anakin said. He was batting a curly straw around his drink -- a Bantha milkshake that was staining his tongue an unsettling shade of blue -- and not making eye contact. “It’s been a long rotation. Month. It’s been a long few missions.”

“Fault me for being skeptical.”

“Fault me for being nice.”

Ahsoka couldn’t help but crack a smile. Moods were generally up at the temple, a result of a series of well-won battles. A lot of that was Anakin, and by proxy, Ahsoka. She supposed a little celebration wouldn’t kill them, but if that was indeed all, Anakin would have reserved a table for two. Not four.

The places next to them sat empty and Ahsoka couldn’t help but notice her Master glancing up at every so often at the door.

“Master Obi-Wan is uncharacteristically late,” Ahsoka said.

Anakin rolled his eyes.

“Obi-Wan has business elsewhere.”

“Who else would you invite to lunch?”

Anakin massaged the bridge of his nose.

“You are so impertinent, Snips. Who taught you to be so impertinent?”

She looked directly at him. “Probably the same person who taught me to be so observant.” 

Ahsoka didn’t have to wait long after that before the door chimed open and she got her answer. Helplessly, she looked between her Master’s expectant grin and the two Mirilian Jedi walking towards them. They clashed wildly with the diner’s kitschy decor, black robes against shiny red and chrome. Master Luminara had to bow slightly to fit her headdress under the door frame. Behind her, Barriss looked small. Ahsoka quickly got her feet and bounded towards them.

It had been months since Barriss had joined the medicorp, months since Ahsoka had seen her face. So this was the surprise Anakin had planned for her! It was strange but definitely not unwelcome.

“Master Luminara,” Ahsoka nodded respectfully to the superior Jedi and then reached past her, towards her friend, clasping her forearms. She drank in the sight of her. Barriss’s hands were wrapped in sterile gloves, her face smeared with dirt. She must have been pulled directly from the field for this diner rendezvous. Stranger and stranger.

“Barriss,” Ahsoka greeted her, “It’s been so long. How are you? You look…”

She trailed off and Barriss gave her a small smile, her eyes sparkling.

“You look well,” Barriss said.

They were all seated and shortly afterwards, they gave their orders. Ahsoka looked expectantly towards Anakin, who was chatting idly with Luminara about alliances and the war effort. The subject matters blended together as Ahsoka was left to guess _why_ this unorthodox and unprecedented diner meeting had even been called. Surely, it was not a celebration of hard work like her Master had implied earlier. Barriss would not be called from the medical tent for something as foolish as that.

“Well?” Ahsoka finally asked, when steaming plates of bread and butter, goulash and mashed parsnips were set in front of them. She nudged Anakin’s side.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve guessed by now that there is somewhat of an ulterior motive to this celebration,” Anakin said.

“I guessed that the moment we got here!” Ahsoka said, “Please tell me what’s going on!”

“Yes, Master, what is this all about?” Barriss said, looking up at Luminara, “I wasn’t scheduled to take leave for another month and a fortnight. The troopers on Hypori need me!”

Luminara gave her a thin smile. “There’s been a change of plans. Republic negotiations on Mirial have been quite productive.”

“On Mirial?” Ahsoka and Barriss said at the same time. Their eyes met. Although Barriss was Mirilian by birth, Ahsoka remembered her saying that she had no memories of her home planet. Even still, there was no eradicating that connection - Ahsoka felt similarly about Shili. Under other circumstances, these places could have been their homes.

“Mirilians have a rough history with the Jedi. In the old wars, they were aligned with the Sith and they are located far into the Outer Rim, in Separtist space. An alliance with the Republic is unlikely,” Barriss said.

Her Master sighed. “It’s true that Mirial has not always seen eye to eye with Jedi values. Their culture is traditional and they have an understanding of the Force beyond that of your average world. That makes it hard, as you probably know, with the high percentage of Mirilian force wielders. There are differences there that we haven’t been able to reconcile -- until now.”

“Differences?” Ahsoka looked between the two Jedi Knights, “What differences?”

“Mirilians aren’t always pleased to have their children raised in the Jedi temple. They place family above all else. That’s where you come in,” Luminara said.

“We need you to participate in a negotiation ritual of sorts,” Anakin continued, eyeing Luminara carefully, “Ahsoka, you and Barriss are perfect for it. Being so young and with Barriss being Mirilian.”

Ahsoka’s eyes narrowed. There were a wide range of tribal rituals from dances to sacrifices. She had read about it during her early days in the temple library, before she was assigned to Anakin, when she was trying to piece together her place in the world as a Jedi.

“What sort of negotiation ritual?”

Obviously, Ahsoka thought, a sacrifice was out of the question. Anakin looked down, tapping his thumb nervously against his napkin. 

“The rite of marriage.”

“What?!” Ahsoka and Barriss demanded in unison. Ahsoka stared at Anakin, dumbfounded. Surely, he couldn’t be serious! There were very strict rules against this sort of thing written clearly in the Jedi code. Marriage -- the highest form of love, of earthly attachment. In Ahsoka’s wildest dreams, she couldn’t imagine the council agreeing to this, choosing this path for her.

For her -- and Barriss. She could feel her skin warming where her lekku touched her cheeks. Her and Barriss? Perfect for this? Had she let up her guard back on Geonosis, so many months ago, and allowed whatever chemistry had sparked between the two of them to reveal its secrets to the Force?

“Master,” Barriss said, anxiously looking from Anakin to Luminara, “You can’t be serious.”

“It wouldn’t be a traditional Mirilian marriage,” Luminara said, “Obviously, it is a political gesture to build a relationship with a world who values family. The marriage would be between Mirial and the Republic. Barriss, you and Padawan Tano would just be a symbol of our good nature, and willingness to compromise. And of course, it would not be a true marriage as it would go unconsummated.”

Ahsoka’s forefinger and thumb tensed around her fork as she slammed her arm down on the table. She was sure the flush in her face was visible now. There was no way that this was happening, that a conversation about her and Barriss _consummating_ was happening at a public diner on some no name way station. 

This wasn’t a reward, she thought to herself, but a punishment. She thought back to another time, a hazy memory of lying in her quarters on her Master’s flagship, daydreaming about Barriss’s lips leaving deep red marks on her thighs. Ahsoka was alone then! There was no way anyone could have known -- she was still only sixteen, after all, and these curiosities could not all be vanquished by meditation.

It took looking at her Master’s face, in its resolute earnesty, to realize that he was serious.

“I get to marry Ahsoka?” Barriss blurted out, her voice a pitch too high.

Luminara gave her a thunderous look. “No. You get to carry out a very precarious negotiation under the guise of a marriage rite.”

Ahsoka looked at Barriss. Her eyes were guarded, processing the ludicrous request. Ahsoka had seen that expression before, amidst the rubble on Geonosis -- frantic, trapped, even fearful despite her reserve.

“It’ll be fun,” Ahsoka offered shakily, still trying to process it herself. She blotted her face with a napkin and looked down at her hands, “It’ll be fun.”

***

The first thing that shocked Ahsoka about planning a wedding -- even a fake one -- was how long each step took. She had been back on Coruscant for almost three weeks now and barely got a moment’s rest in the temple before being whisked off to the next appointment. 

It wouldn’t have been so bad if Barriss was there too, but Barriss’s prescence was essential to the war effort and Ahsoka had been scheduled to take leave for the next month anyway, unless there was an emergency call to arms. If Barriss was there, perhaps, she could find some solid ground about where they both stood on the matter -- on what a fake marriage meant to them. If Barriss was there, Ahsoka would have some reassurance that their friendship would go back to normal; but she was not there, and Ahsoka was left to her own thoughts and fears.

She spent most of her early mornings in the meditation room, waiting to be beckoned to another little shop, or to have her opinion asked about color palettes and catering. It all seemed silly for a fake wedding, the very picture of earthly possessions and pride that Jedi were so fundamentally opposed to, but it was clear to her that these measures were not being taken as a favor to her or Barriss.

The planning was being orchestrated by Senator Padme Amidala, who seemed to get more joy out of planning a wedding than Ahsoka got out of starring in one.

One morning, after being measured once again for alterations on her gown, Ahsoka decided to talk to her about it. It was her third dress fitting in less than a month and she was feeling discouraged. Looking into the floor to ceiling mirror, she barely recognized her reflection. The sheer purple fabric clung to her figure, revealing the velveteen slip below. An attendant was making marks on a large measure of white fur that was to line the neck and hood of her dress, as well as the sleeves. She looked more like a princess than a Jedi Padawan, and she felt nothing like a commander.

Padme had mentioned that it was cold on Mirial and that Ahsoka would thank her for the extra protection. It looked anything but practical.

“Senator Amidala,” Ahsoka started. She felt awkward speaking over the attendant’s head, “If it’s not too forward to ask, have you ever thought of getting married?”

“When you’re a politician, the decision isn’t really that simple. A marriage can color your career and that kind of change isn’t always a good thing,” Padme replied, “Besides, my first concern must always be the Republic. When the war is over, I may get to have a wedding someday.”

“Oh,” Ahsoka said. She hadn’t intended her question to be prying, but it was impossible to ignore the chemistry between the Senator and her Master. Ahsoka had never thought about the Jedi Code from a civilian's perspective. For a moment, she felt bad for Padme.

“What do you think about this for Barriss?” Padme shoved a holopad towards her. Displayed on the screen was an image of another gown, this one far deeper in color than Ahsoka’s. It flared out at the bottom, clinging tightly to the midsection of the beautiful Twi’lek model. Ahsoka smiled, picturing Barriss wearing it.

“We’ll have a lot less time to get her fitted,” Padme said, “so a more elastic material would be better. We can get fur attached to this one pretty quickly as well.”

“I love it,” Ahsoka said, “I love all of it. I really trust your judgment. You don’t have to ask me about these things, alright? I think you know better than me. I mean, you’re gorgeous!”

“Oh,” Padme gave her a small smile, “That’s really sweet.”

After that, Ahsoka spent more time at the temple library, revisiting any literature the archives kept on file about Mirial. It was a dry, cold taiga world -- a cavescape, resource rich in both metal and wood. The durasteel from these plants could build a lot of Republic ships, Ahsoka thought, and their wood could burn a lot of fires.

Her thoughts drifted from the wedding to the war. Some part of it just didn’t sit well with her, the dishonesty of using a marriage ritual for political reasons. She thought about what Padme had said about marriage and politics and the Republic. Always putting the Republic first. Ahsoka trusted Senator Amidala, and more importantly, she trusted her Master. If this mission was integral to securing an alliance with Mirial, she would do it. She only hoped Barriss felt the same way.

Barriss was the mysterious piece to the puzzle of how Ahsoka felt about the whole thing.  
  
Her Master had said that she and Barriss were perfect for this mission. She and Barriss, specifically, not Barriss and someone else. Had he sensed something beyond friendship between the two of them? Was it possible, she wondered, for Anakin to feel such subtleties through their Force bond; the stolen glances, the smile Barriss reserved just for her? Force, Ahsoka never saw her smile like that outside of when they were alone and she cherished it. Those rare moments they spent together in their quarters, staring at the ceiling and talking.

_“I get to marry Ahsoka?”_

She and Barriss could talk for hours.

If only Barriss was here, Ahsoka thought. 

***

The Force had a strange way of listening. Three days later, long before the marriage preparations were complete, the battle of Hypori took a steep turn in the Republic’s favor. Two squadrons of troopers were to be withdrawn, and with them, the medicorp. If the general mood was favorable at the Temple before, it was now soaring. One morning, in the halls of the East wing, Ahsoka heard a gravelly chant coming from the direction of the high council’s fresher. It took her more than a few moments to process that the cacophonous noises were Master Windu singing in the shower.

Perhaps, Ahsoka was the sole Jedi in Coruscant who couldn’t allow herself to be thrilled about the news. She lay on her bunk the night before Barriss was supposed to arrive, picturing her hands in those sterile gloves, smeared with the blood of troopers who had passed away in her arms. 

Violent images of the battlefield contrasted with vivid daydreams Barriss’s slender body slipping out of the deep purple roucheing on the gown that Padme had ordered for her. She slept fitfully that night, unable to shake the nervous feeling that something was wrong.

When Ahsoka finally woke up, sunbeams were already breaking through the dark curtains that lined her dormitory. She rubbed her eyes, as the blurry figure in her doorway came into view. 

“Ahsoka,” Anakin smiled down at her, “You were really out, huh?”

Instinctively, Ahsoka pulled the thin cotton blanket around her body.

“Haven’t you heard of knocking?”

“A soldier must always be prepared to wake and go,” Anakin said, “You should thank me for being so understanding. Master Obi-Wan used a whistle.”

“I highly doubt that,” said Ahsoka, although she had seen her Master in his quarters and the rare times he managed to fall into a deep sleep, he was out like a log -- and Master Obi-Wan did have a vindictive streak.

“I’ve brought someone by to see you,” Anakin said. 

Just then, Ahsoka noticed her, lingering in the doorway, with two bowls of porridge sitting on a tray. Barriss looked far less skittish than she’d been at the diner. She was wearing a simple brown tunic and leggings, with her hair up in a deep blue cowl. Her face was clean and her hands were bare of gloves.

“Sorry to barge in like this,” Barriss said.

“Barriss!” Ahsoka bolted out of bed, instantly forgetting that she was only wearing sleep clothes -- a beige bralette and under shorts in a faun color that unfortunately blended a bit too well into her skin.

“Okay!” Anakin groaned, covering his eyes and spinning away, “I’m going to be exercising in the sparring gym. Have a great time catching up and maybe put on some more clothes at some point before lunch.”

Ahsoka froze, looking guiltily down at her own body. A Jedi wasn’t supposed to have either shame or pride about such things. Besides, it was nothing Barriss hadn’t seen before, they had bunked together countless times at the temple, on ships in close quarters, and they’d even shared a medical ward once. It was strange, Ahsoka thought, how something unspoken could become taboo the second it was uttered. 

“I, um,” Barriss looked away from Ahsoka, politely, “If you want to change.”

“Thanks,” Ahsoka said, quickly pulling on a tunic and leggings of her own from the bare wooden drawers. When she was done, she sat on the floor across from Barriss, lifting a bowl of porridge from the tray. She tried not to think about how her fingertips brushed against Barriss’s on their way back.

“So, you get to take leave early?” Ahsoka said, shoveling porridge into her mouth.

Barriss gave her a crooked smile. “I guess. I don’t know if I agree with the decision, but it is nice to have a break. I’m worried it was a little premature.”

“What do you mean?”

“We left one squadron behind on Hypori. If the Separatists launch a second offensive, they’ll be left without medical. If they find out we’ve pulled medical, they’ll launch a second offensive. It’s risky.”

Ahsoka chewed thoughtfully. “I thought the whole reason you left in the first place was because they pulled back forces.”

“Supposedly,” Barriss said, but she didn’t look convinced. Her eyes had darkened since she’d left for the medicorp, Ahsoka thought, and her face had squared out. Was it possible to age so drastically in just a few months or was it Ahsoka’s imagination? Barriss was always a step or two ahead of her in her training, more precise and specialized. Perhaps I’m a bad influence on her, Ahsoka thought.

“Well, while you’ve been risking your life for the war effort, I’ve been dress shopping,” she announced, brightly, if anything to change the subject.

Barriss grinned into her porridge and shook her head. “I’m sure the Republic thanks you for your service.”

“I’ve nearly been awarded a medal of honor! And I’m pretty sure I’m advancing in rank quickly. I can finally tell violet from mauve.”

Barriss gave her a salute. “We have a code violet, Commander! Somebody’s run out of fabric!”

“Force,” Ahsoka said, “I’ve done it. I’ve solved the Clone Wars. Who knew that all we needed to do was get married?”

A giggle stopped in Ahsoka’s throat as suddenly, Barriss’s face dropped and her gaze flickered to the ground.

“Yeah,” she said, “Actually.”

“Actually?”

Barriss leaned back against the wall. “Maybe we should take the opportunity to spar,” she said, “Just because we’re on a break from combat, doesn’t mean we need to lose our edge.”

Ahsoka bit her lip. It sounded like something Master Unduli would say. Barriss had an almost supercilious tone, a stark contrast from just moments ago when she was joking around. 

Suddenly, it clicked into place for Ahsoka: How Barriss had matured far beyond her skill, despite sharing the same rank. How, while she was fussing about the details of their wedding, Barriss was saving lives in the center of a war. How had Ahsoka let herself be so blind? 

I don’t deserve to marry her, she thought to herself, even for some fake negotiation ritual. After this, she’ll want nothing to do with me. Ahsoka’s chest felt suddenly very heavy.

“Yeah,” she agreed, “Let’s spar. I’ve been sitting here alone too long.”

Barriss helped her to her feet, and Ahsoka trailed a pace behind her, leaving the empty bowls behind them in her quarters.

***

A month of preparations and a week of travel seemed like too much time to devote to a diplomatic mission.

“Sometimes, engagements can last for years,” Padme gushed as the strobing pulse of hyperspace lit her face in blue and white light, “On some planets, arrangements can begin early in childhood. Some little girls plan this day for their entire lives.”

It didn't take much detective work for Ahsoka to intuit that the senator herself was one of those girls.

“You’ve done a great job with it,” Ahsoka said, but really she just wanted it to be over.

They had taken an older transport cruiser, fitted with a newer hyperdrive, which meant a quicker journey but a smaller crew. Anakin had argued that less bodies on this mission meant more bodies on the battlefield and besides, a small ship was less likely to be apprehended. 

They were encroaching on Separtist space, after all. Mirial was so deep in the outer rim that they were more likely to be held up by a crime syndicate than an enemy base, but it was better safe than sorry. The Republic didn’t track Separtist surveillance this far out.

Ahsoka had been so worried about the journey -- about being in such close quarters with Barriss again. After their last week at the temple, cleverly weaving around each other and not talking about the impending mission, things had gotten better. They had been able to joke, like they used to, the usual bounce and rhythm returning to their conversations. It showed in the sparring gym, as Ahsoka quickly relearned Barriss's habits and stayed light on her toes. Most sessions, by the end of the week, ended in draws. Ahsoka didn’t want to be set back again. After it was over, she would work twice as hard, and maybe someday, she would earn Barriss’s respect, not just as a friend, but as a Commander.

As it turned out, she had had little to worry about. The crew was only six people, but they took shifts in pairs -- a pilot and a copilot. Ahsoka was paired with Padme, Anakin with Luminara, and Barriss with Padme’s friend and confidant, Breha Organa -- who Ahsoka had immediately recognized as the Queen of Alderaan. 

Lady Organa was to assist with the wedding, while Padme assisted the Jedi with diplomacy. Ahsoka had been excited to meet the Queen, but they had hardly spent any time awake together -- their shifts mirroring each other on the opposite sides of the rotation. She supposed it was just as well, although she couldn’t help but wonder about the conversations that took place between her and Barriss.

For the most part, the days passed quickly. Padme explained tidbits of information about marriage customs on Naboo, and Ahsoka kept her eyes on the steer, and on the map, as it tracked their ship growing ever closer to its destination.

***

“I can’t do it, Master.”

Anakin raised his eyebrows at her. “Getting cold feet, Snips?”

Ahsoka threw her head in exasperation, nearly hitting it on the thick wooden beam that held together their lodging. They had landed on Mirial so late the night before that Ahsoka had spent most of the day sleeping, while everyone else fussed about, preparing for her big day. 

When she’d woken up, she’d been whisked away for last minute consultations on where to put the stalls, the fire pit, and the decorations. 

They had asked for her family blanket, whatever that meant. With no family to speak of, Ahsoka had suggested the flag of the Jedi. It was weighing on her and weighing heavy, as the clock ticked closer and closer.

“I know it’s just a fake wedding, I know it’s just a stupid ceremony all for show, I know it’s for the good of the Republic but I am _not_ cut out for this!”

Anakin looked at her sideways. “I told Senator Amidala not to scare you with all of those etiquette tips! She really is something, isn’t she? Knows her stuff about weddings.”

“No!” Ahsoka shouted and, suddenly, she wanted to cry.

“No?”

“It’s not the wedding, it’s…” She took a deep breath in. She couldn’t say it. Not even to her Master, who would surely understand.

“It’s Barriss,” Anakin finished for her.

Ahsoka looked down, nervously wrinkling the fabric of a blanket that had been left abandoned across the couch. How could he have known? How much did he know?

“Listen, Ahsoka, I’m not an idiot, I can tell you two have been avoiding each other. Did she say something to you? Luminara’s been putting a lot of pressure on her about getting this mission right. Not,” he stopped himself, “to contradict the methods of Luminara. It’s just sometimes…”

Ahsoka breathed a sigh of relief. “She can be a lot.”

“Whatever happened between you two,” Anakin said, “Remember that Barriss is your friend. She wouldn’t want to see you so pent up.”

If only I could be so sure, Ahsoka thought to herself, of what Barriss wanted.

“Thank you, Master.”

Anakin eyed her sharply, inevitably dissatisfied that the Force gave her conflicted feelings away.

“What did she say to you?” He growled. He sat straight in his seat, demeanor bristling.

Ahsoka wrung her hands. 

“It’s not Barriss,” she said, finally, “It’s me.”

“Ahsoka,” Anakin grabbed her by the shoulders and looked right into her eyes, “You’re sixteen and a Jedi Padawan. Of course you’re uneasy about marriage, but this time, it isn’t about you and it isn’t about Barriss. This is for the Republic, to secure a very important ally. Can you do that for me?”

Ahsoka nodded. She wasn’t sure if she felt better or worse. 

“I know you can, Snips.” Anakin got to his feet and offered her a hand. “I’m heading to the caf to get some late dinner. Wanna come?”

“No thank you,” Ahsoka said, “I’m gonna turn in early. Big day tomorrow.”

“Suit yourself,” Anakin said. The door swung shut heavy behind him, and Ahsoka could hear the sound of fresh snow tumbling down from the roof from its momentum. She shivered, and flipped around on the couch, pulling the blanket over her small frame. She was tired, her body not yet adjusted to the feeling of solid ground, and Mirial was a cold and foreign world.

Images of Barriss played behind her eyes, kicking up snow drifts in that deep purple dress. For a time, she must have dozed off, because when she opened her eyes, it was completely dark, save for the light from two low moons shining through her window and a slight blue glow emanating from the small kitchen. Rubbing her eyes, Ahsoka stumbled towards the light.

“Master?” She said, groggily.

The glow was coming from a holopad, reflecting its light off someone’s face. Ahsoka quirked her head.

“Hi, Ahsoka. It’s me.”

Barriss put her holopad down on the table and activated the dim lamp beside her. The quality of the light was now warmer, and brighter. Ahsoka took a seat beside her.

“Barriss,” she said, looking at her feet, “I thought you were bunking with Master Unduli.”

“I was,” Barriss said, “But now they’re using our lodge to discuss tactics for the meeting that is to occur during the ceremony. I came here to read. I’m sorry, I can go if you like.”

“No,” Ahsoka said, placing her hand over Barriss’s, “Stay.”

Barriss smiled at the gesture, relaxing back into her seat.

“It’s been a while since we talked alone like this.”

“Yeah,” Ahsoka said, “This whole wedding thing is overwhelming.”

“You seemed excited about it. Learning violent and mauve.”

Ahsoka flushed, a guilty hand hovering behind her lekku. “Senator Amidala makes it sound exciting.”

“I see.” 

There was that expression again -- the pained smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“I’m more excited to return to the Command,” Ahsoka said quickly, “I’m just happy to serve the Republic!”

She instantly regretted it, cringing as Barriss’s smile froze, hurt filling her eyes. She can tell I’m lying to her, Ahsoka thought frantically. All she wanted were things to go back to how they were -- not only before the mission, but before Barriss had entered the medicorp. She wanted to go back to being equals, to being the one who could make Barriss laugh. She wanted Barriss to confide in her again.

“I want you to be happy too,” Ahsoka said quietly, “I love when you’re happy.”

Barriss’s lips turned once again, guarded but genuine. 

"Well, reading is nice."

"You would say that."

Barriss tucked her holopad away, propping her chin up on her hand.

“You know," she said, "I’m happy right now.”

Ahsoka smiled. “Good.”

Barriss’s eyes lingered on Ahsoka’s mouth like two distant pools. Before she knew what was happening, her companion had leaned into her space, breathing her breath. She felt the brief touch of Barriss’s lips on her own, before she suddenly pulled back, staring at Ahsoka in horror at what she’d done. Barriss’s usually olive skin was the color of a Coruscanti rose.

“I have to go,” she said quickly, pulling her holopad tight against her chest.

“Barriss,” Ahsoka started, scrambling to her feet, but Barriss was already halfway out the door, running headlong into the night. 

Ahsoka stood in the doorway, watching her breath materialize in the air. The Mirilian mountains jutted upwards from the side of the road where the lodgings were located, the looming capital city directly above them. Behind the cabins, a half-frozen lake rushed around its own glacial structures. Ahsoka watched the snow fall, trying to process what had happened. She touched her forefinger to her lips.

“You too?” Hearing Anakin’s voice out of nowhere made Ahsoka jump halfway across the room. She loosened her fighting stance and sighed as he walked in behind her.

“I saw Barriss running like her life depended on it towards Luminara’s bunk, and you look like you just had a run in with a Nashtah. What has gotten into you two?”

“Oh, you know,” Ahsoka’s voice was taut, as she struggled to regain her composure, “We're getting married tomorrow.”

***

Ahsoka awoke to a gentle shaking of her shoulder. Padme was smiling down at her, already looking entirely too put together for the time of morning. From the position of the sun outside the window and her Master’s gentle snoring from the bedroom, Ahsoka figured it was still quite early.

“Good morning,” the Senator whispered, “Let’s get you some breakfast. We’ve got a lot ahead of us.”

Ahsoka rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stretched, pulling herself into a sitting position on the couch. Then, she swallowed sharply, remembering the events of the night before.

Padme must have noticed the look in Ahsoka’s eyes because she laughed and offered her a hand.

“Hey, it’s not that bad,” she said, “We’ve just gotten your vows all done and want you to read over them. The hard part’s over.”

Ahsoka wondered how she could say that the morning her marriage was to take place, but she was too sleepy to question it.

“Anakin!” Padme called unceremoniously into the other room, “Get up! It’s time for your favorite -- a big day of negotiations.”

Ahsoka could hear her Master groaning and the rustling for the sheets as he pulled himself out of bed. He lumbered into the main room of the cabin, hair sticking up at every angle, in nothing but a pair of baggy brown pants and his socks. 

“‘Soka,” he nodded sleepily, greeting her, “Padme -- er, Senator.”

“Put some clothes on, Anakin,” Padme chided, as she set out plates for the three of them around the kitchen table, “I’ve brought biscuits over from the caf.”

“Where’s Barriss?” Ahsoka asked. In all her panic from last night’s incident, she hadn’t even made sure that Barriss had made it back safely. She was running towards Luminara’s cabin, Anakin had said, but it was so cold and slick and bleary with the falling snow -- she could have wound up anywhere. Ahsoka bit her lip. If something happened to Barriss, she thought, it would be her fault.

Sensing her unease, Padme gently patted her shoulder.

“Barriss is with Master Unduli in her cabin,” she said, “Like I told you on our way over, it’s not customary for the betrothed to see one another before the ceremony on their wedding day. Lady Organa will be helping Barriss learn her vows and finish any last minute additions to her dress. I think we decided some fur to line her headscarf -- though, I shouldn’t be telling you this, it will be better if it’s a surprise!”

Anakin rolled his eyes, already ripping into the biscuits Padme had brought in their small disposable box.

“They’re not really getting married,” he said, with his mouth full, “Ahsoka is already nervous about this enough as it is.”

“Of course, Ani,” Padme said, “but traditions are traditions. Would it kill you to play along for the sake of negotiation? We’re certainly going to have a problem if you accidentally say something like that at the capital.”

Anakin turned beet red. “Of course,” he said, “I know that.”

Ahsoka smirked, looking between the two of them, and helped herself to a biscuit as well.

“Anyway,” Padme produced a holopad from the satchel at her hip, lifting it up onto the table in front of Ahsoka, “Master Unduli, Lady Organa, and I spent a good part of the night crafting these vows. They strike the perfect chord, I think, between traditional Mirilian wedding and political partnership. Why don’t you read through them and let me know what you think?”

Everything Ahsoka had learned about wedding vows, she had learned from Padme. She really wasn’t the right person to give feedback. Regardless, she reached for the holopad. Ahsoka was supposed to be the one reciting them, after all. The small Basic characters were centered on the screen. They were formatted, she thought, like old Jedi poetry.

_I, Ahsoka Tano, Jedi Padawan in alliance with the Galactic Republic_

_Take Barriss Offee, Jedi Padawan in alliance with the Galactic Republic_

_To be my wife and partner, as Jedi Knights, in the battle for a better world._

_Like the world of Mirial joins today, with the Republic as a whole_

_So shall I join together with Barriss, in celebration and companionship_

_As long as I live. On and off the battlefield, with the Force as my witness_

_So may we have peace, prosperity and longevity in this world and beyond._

Ahsoka furrowed her brow and reread the statements. She was unsure what she expected from wedding vows written by Jedi and politicians. 

“Well?” Padme asked after a moment, “What do you think?”

“Are you sure this is going to be enough?” Ahsoka asked. She was no expert, but from what Padme had described previously, the vows seemed rather impersonal. She had at least expected -- had prepared herself -- to have to say the word _love._

“We have to be careful what we say with the Force as our witness,” Anakin said, “Luminara knows that and so do I. Even these vows teeter on the brink of breaking the Jedi code,” he glanced up at Padme, “It’s dangerous.”

“I guess,” Ahsoka said, she looked down at the holopad once more. The words seemed formal, binding, like the vow of apprenticeship she had taken to become Anakin’s padawan. Had she wanted to say that she loved Barriss? Had she wanted to profess such a statement in front of hundreds of Mirilian strangers -- in front of her mentors?

“Weddings, in general, are pushing the line,” Anakin continued, as if it were the continuation of a former argument he’d been making with himself, “It is what it is. We need this alliance.”

Padme looked downright grim.

“I guess,” Ahsoka said again, staring vacantly out the window.

***

They took speeders up to the capitol. It was shocking, Ahsoka thought, how the sparse wilderness of the lower level quickly blossomed into a booming city, built vertically out of the cliffside. The air was clearer up here, as well, the runoff from the large energy plant piped down into the lake and eventually carried out to sea. 

It reminded Ahsoka a bit of Coruscant, or perhaps what Coruscant would have looked like before the lower levels were developed. The bleak wilderness of the landing platform, woods and sparse cabins met its match in the bright shop windows, apartment towers, and of course, the foreboding capitol building itself.

Ahsoka gawked in amazement, peering out from where she wedged behind Anakin’s broad shoulders. Most of the pedestrians were Mirilian, with unique facial tattoos and simple brown robes. They ranged in color from olive -- like Barriss and Luminara -- to pale blue and lavender. In all her travels throughout the galaxy, Ahsoka had never seen a lavender Mirilian. She tried not to be rude and stare.

They were greeted at the gates of the capital by the estranged Mirilian senator, planted firmly between two massive male body guards. Padme’s speeder, one pace ahead of Ahsoka’s, ground to a halt in front of her. The senator had a deeper olive coloring than Barriss, with heavy diamond shaped tattoos on her nose, cheeks, and chin. She wore a white shawl over her hair, but it was loose, revealing the two thick braids banded with gold beads that framed her youthful face.

“Senator Voralla,” Padme said, politely. There was not an ounce of disdain in her voice for the estranged politician, Ahsoka noticed, regardless of Voralla’s previous qualms with the Republic. It was a good thing that Padme was to be in charge of the negotiations. Ahsoka admired her tight control of form.

“Senator Amidala,” Voralla smiled warmly in return, mimicking Padme’s greeting, her forefinger drawing a line in the air in front of her face, “Welcome, honored guests! Ah, famous Jedi Master Skywalker, we finally meet. And, Padawan Tano!”

Voralla gestured for her bodyguards to stay as she walked beside Ahsoka, offering her a hand off of the speeder. Ahsoka tried to be graceful as she accepted, and dismounted.

“My lady,” Ahsoka said, eyeing Anakin for approval, “It is an honor.”

“Voralla will do, my dear. Senator Amidala tells me you and Miss Offee have been courting for some time, just over a year now, correct?”

Voralla’s eyes stared Ahsoka down. She hoped desperately that the senator could not see the flush in her cheeks and lekku, as she thought back. It had been over a year since their first mission together, hadn’t it? She remembered Barriss, recovering in the medical wing, long after she had already awoken -- how she had waited by her side, for hours every day, until she had fully healed. It felt so incredibly long ago.

“That’s correct,” Ahsoka said, leveling her voice.

“Ah,” Voralla touched her lightly on the shoulder, “It is a great privilege to marry a Mirilian, and a great sacrifice, if I’m to understand, that the Jedi Order is making for your love and our culture.”

“That’s right,” Anakin said, hopping off the speeder behind her, with far less grace. Padme shot him a look and he quickly quieted.

Voralla turned her eyes on Anakin with distaste. Then, she arranged her face back into a cold smile.

“Senator Amidala, why don’t you see this Jedi to the council chambers? His apprentice’s betrothed should be here momentarily and I’d like to speak with her privately while the final preparations are made.”

Anakin’s lips thinned. He looked livid.

“I don’t think that will be --”

“Of course,” Padme interrupted him, her eyes like fire. She gave Ahsoka a knowing look -- a look that silently said “remember what I’ve taught you. It will be alright.”

Ahsoka could feel her heart racing in her chest. Perhaps Padme had been prepared for the possibility of something like this but she certainly hadn’t been. She had tagged along with Anakin and Obi-Wan on diplomatic missions before, but much like her Master, she had the bad habit of putting her foot in her mouth at all the wrong times. Anakin’s padawan, through and through, Master Obi-Wan had called her.

“Wonderful,” Senator Voralla said, “My dear, would you like to walk with me? I can show you the gardens behind the capital. You’d be surprised what blossoms in snowy weather.”

“Of course, My La -- er, Voralla,” Ahsoka said. She shrugged at Anakin, as the Senator offered her an arm. 

“Come,” she said, “Senator Amidala, we’ll reconvene at the council chambers after Miss Offee has arrived. It’s such a shame that the ceremony and negotiations have to take place on the same day, I’m so disappointed that I won't be able to be there for both.”

“Times of war,” Anakin said through his teeth, “We all have to make sacrifices.”

***

Senator Voralla led Ahsoka, arm in arm, through the street, her bodyguards left behind to escort Padme and Anakin into the building. They took the long way to the gardens, passing by cafes and museums, and the large open square in the center of town, where one-eyed avians pecked for crumbs amidst the snow and city grime. 

Ahsoka couldn’t help but notice how close the Mirilians were with each other, paired off in sets of two, hugging and kissing out in the open. A pair of males, one lavender and one green, danced in the city square to the music streaming out of a nearby cafe. Their bodies were pressed tightly together, hips grinding and swinging in intimacy. Ahsoka looked away, blushing. Despite herself, she wondered if Barriss would behave that way too, if it weren’t for the Jedi Code.

When the senator finally made it around the building, Ahsoka gasped. Before them lay a vast open courtyard, with snowy hedges bursting with ripe red berries. The garden was immaculately curated, thick vines and thorny stems weaving together, with some of the largest and most beautiful flowers Ahsoka had ever seen. They came in wintery shades of white and pale yellow, deep blues and purples. Mauve, Ahsoka thought to herself, _and_ violet. She smiled at the thought.

“This is breathtaking,” Ahsoka said, unsure where to look next, “Thank you for taking me here.”

“Of course, my dear,” Voralla said, “I thought you’d like it. Why don’t we keep walking and you can tell me more about your betrothed?”

Suddenly, Ahsoka felt a shiver run down her spine. So, this was a test, she thought, but why? The arrangements had already been set in stone for long over a month. Was Mirial going to betray them? She felt the weight of her lightsabers at her side, suddenly thankful that Anakin had convinced her to bring them. These weapons are your life, he had told her, a long time ago. She had never forgotten.

Trying not to break composure or show her fear, Ahsoka took a deep breath. The air carried the warm aroma of flowers, even though it was cold against her cheeks.

“Um, sure,” Ahsoka said, “Barriss and I met on a world called Geonosis. It -- obviously -- the circumstances are stressful in a war, but I was instantly taken with her grace and skill. Barriss is an incredible fighter, physically, but more importantly, mentally. We were trapped together, deep in the cockpit of this super tank, underground, we couldn’t breath -- there were piles of rubble all around us. Barriss grabbed my hand --”

The words were bubbling out of Ahsoka’s mouth before she could stop herself. This was classified information! Why was she spilling classified information? Her head was hazy with the smell of flowers and she felt warm, clinging to the senator’s arm for support.

“Barriss grabbed my hand,” she said, “and I knew it was going to be okay. I felt this sense of clarity.”

Voralla looked at her with composed curiosity.

“Later on, we recovered together in the medical wing. I was better long before she was, but I stayed. I watched her heal. There were other times too --” Ahsoka coughed, her throat coated as if she had taken a drink of honey -- “We stayed together, while she was helping command Master Unduli’s squadron, while she and I were on break together from assignments. We spent forever in the padawan dormitories talking about, well, really anything. She was practically born in the temple and it shows! Her resolve about the Jedi Order, her carefulness, her sweetness. One time, she said she loved to watch me smile.”

“She wasn’t born in the Jedi Temple,” Voralla gently corrected, “Miss Offee is a child of Mirial.”

“I know that,” Ahsoka said, trying to compose her thoughts, “What I mean is. What I mean is. What I _mean is._ ”

 _She’s a better Jedi than I’ll ever be,_ Ahsoka meant to say, but what came out was entirely different.

“After she joined the medicorp, things changed. She became more distant, more stern, more serious about the war. I tried not to resent her Master for choosing this for her, and I understood why. Barriss is an incredible healer, the best healer the Jedi have seen in an age. It’s not my place to question their decision, but I’m worried about her.”

Ahsoka’s hand went to her mouth, where Barriss had kissed her, just last night. Her eyes drooped down.

“I love to watch her smile too,” Ahsoka said.

The senator turned her sharp eyes fully towards Ahsoka now, making her almost lose balance and crash off the path, into the thicket of thorns.

“Why is that, Padawan Tano?”

Ahsoka took one last deep breath.

“I love her,” Ahsoka said, “I really, really do.”

A satisfied smile crept across Voralla’s lips as she helped Ahsoka up, supporting her arm once again, until they were walking steadily, back towards the gates where they had come into the garden.

“Good. I’m glad to hear that. Perhaps the Jedi order is more earnest in this negotiation than I expected.”

As they moved beyond the gates, Ahsoka’s head began to clear, her feet stabilizing. She kept pace with Voralla, rubbing her eyes. A cold dread began to fill her, as she squinted up at the sun.

“What was that? What did you _do_ to me?”

Voralla laughed lightly. “It’s a little flower we Mirilians like to call _The Scent of Truth._ It’s beautiful, is it not, my dear? Foreigners do tend to love it.”

Ahsoka shook her arm free, baring her teeth.

“You _made_ me say all that.”

“Perhaps, my dear, but it was your truth.”

“You don’t -- I never --”

“And you have nothing to worry about now that it is all out in the open. Forgive me for being suspicious of a future ally’s intentions.”

Ahsoka could feel tears spring into her eyes. What had she done? If the blossoms really made her divulge the truth as their name implied, what did that make her? Attached, Ahsoka thought, in love. Everything she had been warned against.

“Relax, Padawan Tano,” Voralla said, “Enjoy your ceremony. I’ve already waived the cost of your accommodations for your...consummation.”

***

Ahsoka was still seething outside the capitol building where Voralla left her, when Queen Organa arrived to get her changed and fitted for the ceremony. 

It figured, Ahsoka thought, that the first time she was allowed to spend any length of time with the queen, she would be bristling with rage and preoccupied. 

Lady Breha Organa was rather famously known as a powerhouse of a woman, holding political weight far beyond her position as the wife of a senator. She had a reputation for being as tough as nails -- a fighter, an educator, a ruler, and a friend. Padme had spoken so well of her and gushed about her accomplishments in the Alderaani government so many times, that Ahsoka had imagined a far older woman. 

Breha was only around Padme’s age, and almost her twin, with thick locks of brown hair braided in an updo beneath her ceremonial headdress.

“My lady,” Ahsoka said, trying to pull herself together in the presence of the queen, “I’m so glad I finally get to meet you, er, really meet you. The trip over not included.”

Breha gave her a wide, genuine smile, followed by a roaring laugh.

“You don’t have to act like I’m a celebrity, Ahsoka,” she said, “You’re the Jedi Padawan, not I. Has Padme gone and given me impossible boots to fill again, with her praise?”

“Well, she has spoken fondly of you,” Ahsoka couldn’t help but smile, the queen’s confident energy contagious. Maybe things would be alright after all. She could forget about Senator Voralla’s deception and focus on the joy of the day ahead. They had planned it for so long, after all, and Voralla was going to be locked away in a councilroom, negotiating some dreadful treaty.

Breha led Ahsoka into one of the annexes that jutted off the capitol building. She held the long bag containing Ahsoka’s dress and hood far above the ground as she walked quickly. Ahsoka bounced behind her, trying to keep up.

“I will say one thing that is impressive about me. I have an immaculate memory for places, even if I’ve only been once. The last time I came to Mirial, I was your age, Ahsoka, or even younger. I was shadowing my mother during one of her many diplomatic adventures. Kriff, it was boring.”

Ahsoka let out a little gasp of laughter. She had not expected a queen to use expletives. 

“I wandered through the annexes while my mother sat through so many long courts and feasts, and I made a few discoveries. When Voralla said you were to change in the public ‘fresher behind the plaza, I absolutely would not have it. Here --”

Finally, Breha stopped all at once, in front of a heavy wooden door.

“This should be the place,” she said, swinging it open. 

Inside, was the most lavish room Ahsoka had ever seen. Mirrors lined the walls, floor to ceiling, a crystalline chandelier hanging down over a glass claw-footed tub. There were toilets to the far side of the room, made from the same crystal material as the chandelier. Between each toilet and behind the tub were buttons -- Ahsoka assumed to summon thin walls for privacy. She had only seen such tech used for holding cells before.

Gawking at the pristine, shimmery chamber, Ahsoka met Breha’s eyes. They both burst out laughing.

Ahsoka had tears in her eyes before she could finally speak again, gasping for breath and holding her head in her hands.

“This is so pointless!” She exclaimed, “I’ve never seen a ‘fresher built like this in my life. Who was this made for?”

Breha wiped her own eyes, as the last remaining giggles escaped between her words.

“I haven’t the foggiest. Nobility are absolutely ludicrous at times. Barriss reacted the same way, you know. You two really are perfect for eachother.”

Ahsoka smiled, thinking of Barriss laughing.

“Yeah?”

Breha lay the bag with her dress on the countertop, and began to unwrap it. It was just as Ahsoka had remembered it: a shimmery velvet slip and a sheer purple outer layer, that trailed to the ground, with beading and lace intricately patterned up the front. She reached out to caress the fur lining on the hood and sleeves. This was really happening.

“Hey, Ahsoka,” Breha said, “I know you’re almost a married woman so this shouldn’t be too inappropriate to say, but hurry up and get naked. We don’t want you to be late to your own wedding.”

“Oh,” Ahsoka said, blushed, “Um.”

“Right,” Breha turned away and allowed Ahsoka to remove her civvies, stripping off even her underwear. It was too bulky for the sheer dress, Padme had explained, and it would show under the slip. Ahsoka carefully lifted the delicate lace bra and underwear that had been packed in the bottom of her bag and stood for a moment, looking at her own naked reflection.

She didn’t look like a girl anymore. Her muscled stomach curved slightly in the same way Padme’s did, and her breasts had developed -- small, but soft. Unmistakably, she had a woman’s body. For some reason, she couldn’t get Master Yoda’s voice out of her head, talking to her as he had when she was graduating from a youngling to a padawan.

“Shame in one’s body, a Jedi feels not. Pride in one’s body, a Jedi feels not. But one limb of the Order, a Jedi’s body will become.”

Ahsoka hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now she felt annoyed by it. Was this not her own body, these muscles built by years of dedicated training, scars formed by her own sacrifices? 

“Ahsoka,” Breha urged, shaking her from her thoughts, “Stop admiring yourself and get your undies on. We’ve got to get you dressed and out there! Barriss is waiting!”

“Right.” Ahsoka pulled on the bra and underwear, and let Breha drape the gown over her frame, reaching down to adjust the zipper so it clung tightly against her skin.

“There,” Breha stood back, satisfied, as Ahsoka gazed around at herself in the many mirrors. She looked so alien in this fancy dress that accentuated the womanly parts of her. The parts of her, she thought, that she wasn’t allowed to own.

“Breha,” Ahsoka said, unsteadily, “You helped write my vows, right?”

“Of course!” Breha said, “Although, it was really mostly Padme and Luminara.”

“Did you...like the vows?”

Breha thought about her answer for a second before laying a gentle hand on Ahsoka’s shoulder.

“On my planet,” she said, “Couples write their own vows.”

“Oh,” Ahsoka said.

***

Outside, the decorative streamers that Ahsoka and Padme had picked out were already draped across the conifers, setting them alight. It looked like stars had been trapped there, on their purple ribbons, waiting for the sky to darken so that they could glow even brighter.

A large fire pit had been dragged to the center of the square and the pre-ordered vendors were already setting up their stands, with skewers of vegetables and bulbs, seasoned and waiting to be roasted over the fire. A whole suckling hog was shuffled on a cart by two Mirilian butchers who nodded at Ahsoka, speaking their native language as they rushed away. 

Crowds of Mirilian civilians had gathered behind the golden ropes that sectioned off where Ahsoka and Barriss were supposed to take the stage. Two temporary stalls had been set up to either side, covered by pitch black curtains.

Ahsoka shivered as Breha led her towards one of the stalls. It was cold, even with the fur warming her hands and neck, and she was suddenly overcome with nerves.

“ _I, Ahsoka Tano,”_ she muttered to herself, “ _I, Ahsoka Tano, Jedi Padawan...Jedi Padawan, in alliance with...I, Ahsoka Tano...”_

“Relax,” Breha whispered to her, rubbing her back gently through her dress, “It will be fine. Don’t overthink things.”

“Thanks,” Ahsoka said. How was it that she was trained to respond for combat like second nature, but the idea of reciting _vows_ was giving her stage fright?

Ahsoka peered her head out of the curtain. The crowd was huge now, hundreds if not half a thousand people, all looking her way, murmuring excitedly. 

“What if I forget my vows?” She whispered sharply, turning back towards Breha, so that she could affix a small microphone to Ahsoka’s lekku, “What if I say the wrong thing?”

“Then make something better up,” Breha said, “You didn’t seem too fond of the vows anyway.”

Ahsoka’s mind wandered to the garden, to the embarrassing confession she had made to Senator Voralla. She couldn’t make that mistake again: her honor, her allegiance to the Republic and the Order of the Jedi forbid it. So what if she loved Barriss? They were just soldiers. They were just actors, symbols of the greater alliance between Mirial and the Republic. Years of history in the making rested on their shoulders. 

So what if she loved Barriss? That really wasn’t relevant right now.

Ahsoka jumped in surprise, as a female Mirilian with pale olive skin walked from the opposite stall towards the arc at the center of the platform. Her breath stilled in her chest, blinking in surprise.

“I thought Master Unduli was helping with the treaty,” she hissed, “What’s going on?”

Breha’s eyes widened. “Nobody told you? Luminara is officiating the wedding.”

“What?” Ahsoka’s voice was much louder than she intended. She took a deep breath, realizing from the lack of feedback that her microphone was still off.

“I thought _you_ were officiating the wedding,” Ahsoka could feel her sweat seeping through the fabric of her dress. So much for being a delicate, beautiful bride. So much for being a bride at all -- there was no pretending, any more, that this was anything more than another mission. Ahsoka sighed. She had been foolish to think otherwise.

Breha squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “Only religious figures can officiate a wedding. Since you and Barriss belong to the temple of the Jedi, and since Luminara is a Mirilian, it was the obvious choice.”

Ahsoka covered her head with her hand. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can,” Breha whispered, “Luminara is powerful, and intimidating, but this is _your_ day.”

Ahsoka opened her mouth to argue, but just as she was about to speak, the loud overture of traditional Mirilian music blasted through the curtain and she was silenced. The song was set in a minor key and blared on traditional brass instruments. It seemed fitting that it sounded almost mournful.

When the music finally subsided, and Ahsoka was left with nothing but ringing in her ears, she heard Master Unduli’s voice, low and clear, as it echoed across the square.

“Allies, fellow Mirilians,” Luminara said, “I have long waited for the day I can return to my home planet, greeted not as an enemy, but as a friend. That is how it’s been for me, in this strange intersection between my cultures, but, unfortunately, I have watched my padawan, Barriss Offee grow up -- not as a Mirlian, but entirely as a Jedi.”

To Ahsoka’s surprise, she could hear a wave of faint booing stir through the crowd. Was Luminara going to ruin this before she herself had a chance to? That thought hadn’t even crossed her mind.

“Settle,” Luminara warned and then continued, “I have watched my padawan grow up restricted from her culture, from our culture, and our people and I have long thought, is this the Jedi way? To limit our knights from their own pasts -- from their own journeys?”

“It is the Jedi way!” Ahsoka heard one Mirilian scream from the crowd. The outcry was followed by the sound of a struggle, dragging feet, and low curses. A nervousness filled Ahsoka’s stomach as she tensed her fists. Was Luminara really the best choice for a heart-felt speech about love? What had they been thinking?

“No,” Luminara said, “He’s right. It has been the Jedi way. But no longer. Today, we come together to undo a wrong that has long plagued relations between the Republic and Mirial. We come together to celebrate my padawan, Barriss Offee, and her choices, her growth, and her future with her peer and companion, Ahsoka Tano.”

Ahsoka could sense a strain in Luminara’s voice when she said “my padawan”. She seemed conflicted. Proud, perhaps, to call Barriss her padawan, but pained to celebrate something that went against her values. Ahsoka hadn’t considered that yet, either: What it meant to have Luminara stand before her own people preaching something she didn’t believe in.

Anakin’s voice rang in Ahsoka’s mind: _“We all make sacrifices.”_

“Now, if you will join me, people of Mirial, in this celebration, I will ask the brides to come forward.”

Once again, the horns sounded and the same low, ethereal tune began to play. Ahsoka glanced back at Breha, who was waving her forward ecstatically.

“Get out there!” She said, reaching forward to adjust Ahsoka’s mic. Ahsoka took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut, reaching towards the hem of her dress to walk the way she and Padme had practiced. Step.

She looked straight ahead, not daring to see how large the crowd had gotten or give in to their cheering. 

Step. 

Ahead of her, directly parallel, and moving at the same pace, Barriss locked eyes with her. Her dark purple dress shimmered in the sunlight. It hugged her thin figure; long sleeves, strapped together, leaving inches of her shoulder bare. Barriss’s usual headscarf was traded for an ornate wrap, the same color as her dress. White fur, the same fur that detailed Ahsoka’s sleeves and hood, framed her face. 

Step.

As Ahsoka moved closer, she tried desperately to read Barriss’s expression. She was not frowning, but her blue eyes were wide and wet. Her lips pressed tight together, cheekbones tense, as the wind whipped the excess material at her ankles.

Step. Step. Step.

By now, they had made their way to the middle of the Platform, one on either side of Luminara. The Jedi Master looked between them, gazing softly -- or as softly as Luminara’s gaze ever got -- upon Barriss before turning her eyes on Ahsoka. _Her eyes could make diamonds out of me._ Ahsoka tensed.

“Now, for the vows,” Luminara faced the crowd. 

Finally, Ahsoka gathered the gumption to look at the mob. Their numbers had quadrupled since she had last checked. She drew in another frigid breath, the sweat on the back of her neck cold, even beneath the fur of her hood.

Luminara cleared her throat. “Begin, Barriss.”

Barriss looked at Ahsoka for a long time before speaking. It was a strange look, an empty look, the kind of look Ahsoka imagined she’d have on her face while she was cradling the body of a dead clone.

She breathed in deep, for a moment, and stuck out her chin -- but then her eyes wandered up to her Master and she faltered.

“I, Barriss Offee,” Barriss said, “Jedi Padawan in alliance with the Galactic Republic…”

Ahsoka paid close attention as Barriss finished uttering her vows. They mirrored her own exactly, except for a line about preserving the culture of Mirial. When it came time for Ahsoka to speak, it was easy to remember what she was supposed to say, as she had just heard the majority of it parroted back to her. As soon as she was done, the crowd erupted into a loud cheer, and music filled the air. 

So it was enough, Ahsoka thought, enough to placate Mirial. Another victory in the pocket of the Republic. She only wished it didn’t feel so hollow.

As soon as the ceremony was complete, the pair was ushered off of the platform to allow for the fire to be started. Ahsoka hung back wordlessly looking between Barriss and Luminara. 

“You did a wonderful job, my padawan,” Luminara said, squeezing Barriss’s arm, “I’m very, very proud of you.”

“You too,” She looked over to Ahsoka, with a curt smile, “Your Master should be done shortly with the negotiations. I’m sure he will have his own words prepared for you. Thank you both so very much.”

“Excuse me,” Luminara stood, to talk with Breha and some Mirilian officials, who had just come from the council chambers. 

Ahsoka collapsed back against the bench. She felt drained.

“Barriss?”

Barriss was looking down, silently running her fingers in circles through the white fur of her hood.

“Barriss --” 

Finally, her companion -- now wife, officially, although the word felt too foreign to say -- looked up. Her eyes were unfocused.

“You look beautiful, Ahsoka,” she said.

Ahsoka just put her arm around her, holding her there.

***

Breha brought two plates, piled high with roasted pork, vegetables, and desserts. It hadn’t occurred to Ahsoka until that moment that she was starving. She could probably have eaten the whole suckling pig in one bite if it was placed in front of her.

“Congratulations,” Breha said, “That has to be the shortest wedding I’ve ever attended.”

Ahsoka smiled, despite herself, and bit into a small, orange cake. It tasted good, far richer than anything she had ever eaten at the temple or even on her many excursions with Anakin through space. Ahsoka’s arm was still around Barriss, who had shut her eyes, leaning into her shoulder. Ahsoka knew better than to think she had fallen asleep.

“You didn’t change the vows,” Breha commented, “Neither of you did.”

Ahsoka froze, looking down at Barriss. She opened her eyes to a slit. Had Breha talked to Barriss about changing her vows as well? 

“It wasn’t really an option,” Barriss said softly, “This is for the best.”

Breha shrugged, unconvinced.

“Wow. I could never be a Jedi.”

It was a sorry tone, genuinely empathetic, but under the circumstances, it seemed mocking.

“Couldn’t anyone?” Barriss snapped, and left it at that.

***

Anakin came by shortly afterwards, followed by Voralla, Padme, and the Mirilian agents from earlier. They were carrying something too, although this time it was much bulkier than plates of food. Ahsoka had picked the plate Breha left for her til it was clean, while Barriss sat there, looking at the ground. They made idle chit-chat, about the wedding, and weather, with none of the natural ease that usually graced their conversations.

Anakin failed to read their expressions before dragging Ahsoka to her feet, grinning.

“I heard congratulations are in order?”

Hesitantly, Ahsoka glanced over his shoulder, where Voralla was standing, arms crossed over her chest.

“Now, Master,” Ahsoka said, tone light but eyes warning, “A wise Jedi once taught me not to spend too much time celebrating our victories.”

“Who taught you that?” Anakin asked, while the Mirilians behind him chuckled.

The joke was actually on them, Ahsoka thought, because Anakin would _never_ say something like that.

“I got you something,” Anakin gestured for the agents to come forward, “You too, Barriss. This is a traditional marriage gift on Mirial. It’s a bonded blanket. Usually, if I understand correctly, the family quilts of the newlyweds are sewn together to form one big blanket. Since you two are, uh, non traditional, Ahsoka had the great idea to use the Jedi flag and Voralla offered to let us use a spare Mirilian flag.”

The agents unfurled the huge piece of textile. It was patchily woven down the middle, the designs clashing colors side by side, saber against mountain, blue and red. 

“How...considerate,” Ahsoka’s lips curled into a tight smile as she glanced at Barriss. Her wife’s eyes had blown wide, back very straight. She looked like she was about to cry.

Suddenly and without warning, Barriss jumped to her feet.

“Ihavetogo!” She yelped, and with that, she was off, running headlong back towards the capitol building. Ahsoka watched her, brow furrowed in concern. Why had she decided that the Jedi flag was a suitable replacement for a _family_ blanket? Poor Barriss, she thought to herself, I have to go after her.

“What is she doing?” Hissed Voralla, looking sharply at Ahsoka, “What is the meaning of this?”

“I don’t know,” Ahsoka said, “but I’d better go find out.”

  
  


***

Ahsoka found Barriss in the speeder lot behind the capital’s annex.

She was sitting on the concrete, wedding dress wet and dirty with runoff, crying into her hands. Her back was turned away from Ahsoka, who approached her carefully from behind. Slowly, quietly. She didn’t call out to her or say her name. 

Instead, Ahsoka sat down beside her, instantly feeling how cold and hard the ground was through her dress. She let her body cover Barriss’s, shielding her from the wind. By now, it was dark, and tiny snowflakes hung in the air all around them. She could feel Barriss shiver.

“Let’s go,” Ahsoka said finally, when Barriss’s sobs had subsided.

“I don’t want to go back.”

“I never said back,” Ahsoka said, “Let’s _go.”_

“Where are we going to go?” Barris brushed the tears off her face and sniffled into her elbow.

“Wherever you want to go. As long as you can get there by speeder,” Ahsoka jingled the keys to Anakin’s speeder. He had let her pocket them earlier in case the negotiations were delayed into the night and Ahsoka had to make it back to the cabins alone.

“I don’t know where I want to go,” Barriss said.

“Okay,” Ahsoka said, “Will you trust me, then?”

***

  
  


The _accommodations,_ that Voralla has so kindly waived the fee for, were isolated from the city, a quick ride up the cliff face. Ahsoka hung her helmet on the bike’s steer, and helped Barriss off without looking her in the eyes. The journey had done a number on the hem of her dress, all tattered from getting caught in the motor and snagged on branches. But Ahsoka never really cared for dresses anyway.

She looked up, where the clouds covered the cosmos and even the tops of trees. The forest was thick here, with no clearing cut for a building. Instead, the cabin was inset into a cave, just three walls of lumber with wide glass windows. The logs were unvarnished and simple, and the building practically blended into the trees. It was beautiful, in a very natural, traditional and simple way. Much like the ceremony would have been, Ahsoka thought, if it were real.

Ahsoka let them in and immediately made for the bed. She was exhausted from the day’s activities and dreading spending even one more night on this rock. If Barriss never speaks to me again, she thought to herself, she can do so, but she still has to share this bed with me, just for tonight. Even if we lie on the edges.

Barriss had been slow coming in after her, silently staring at pines as the wind rustled their branches. She was silhouetted by the moonlight, green skin turned silvery with deep black shadows under her eyes. Ahsoka watched her companion reach towards the furs that framed her face, slowly unwrapping them, still facing away.

“I know only one thing about Mirilian custom,” Barriss said softly, “Master Unduli told me. The head coverings are only meant to come off around spouses or family. Not that it matters, since I’ve been in the temple as long as I can remember. I still try to wear it most of the time. But I guess --”

“Listen,” Ahsoka said, and she felt the lump that had lingered in her chest all day rising up to her throat where it stayed suspended, limiting her speech to a whisper. She could not bring herself to look at Barriss as the thin dark fabric fell to the floor.

“It’s just a stupid fake wedding. It’s a mission just like any other, for the good of the Republic. None of this is real. If you never want to talk about this again, that’s fine! It doesn’t matter, what matters is that Mirial joins the Republic!”

“I’m sorry that this ever had to happen” she said quietly after another moment, “I’m sorry you got pulled from the medicorp for this.”

She could hear the creak of the window’s wooden frame and Barriss’s footsteps inching towards her. Slowly, Ahsoka allowed herself to turn to her. She braced herself for Barriss’s expression - angry or worse yet, impassive as she had been during the ceremony. Ahsoka’s eyes traced her hair, all ruffled from sitting under her headwrap -- her forehead, furrowed above two gleaming eyes. Barriss’s eyes weren’t cold. She looked almost heartbroken. 

“What are you talking about?” Barriss’s voice was shaky as she took a seat next to Ahsoka on the bed.

“The wedding!” Ahsoka flushed, “You’ve been acting strange for weeks. Ignoring me, giving me the cold shoulder, kissing me and then running away! I figured you thought...you’d outgrown me. You know, being in the medicorp, while I’m still commanding field troopers.”

Barriss let out a tinny little laugh. Her body was so close to Ahsoka’s that she could feel her warmth.

“I could never outgrow you. I could never even grow into the sort of person who deserves you. All day I wanted to talk to you, but you were so busy. And you looked so happy, happy and beautiful in your dress. I didn’t want to take that from you. I don’t think you could understand...”

Barriss trailed off. Ahsoka’s hand brushed against her fingertips. She let it stay there, a single conduit between them.

“Try me.”

Barriss sighed. “All I ever wanted was to learn what it meant to be Mirilian. A long time ago, Master Unduli told me that she _chose_ me as her padawan before she even met me. When she found out there was going to be a new Mirilian youngling, she insisted that she would be the one to train me. Our culture is...close. Traditional. Only, I never got to learn the traditions.”

“All I wanted was to learn about my heritage -- to see my planet. And now I had the chance to have everything, only it was all wrong. I _hate_ the medicorp, Ahsoka, I hate this war, I hate the Republic and the Separatists! I was here as a Jedi, not as a Mirilian. And all we do as Jedi is _lie._ Our marriage was only a symbol, it had nothing to do with culture, or values...or love.”

Ahsoka gave Barriss’s hand a squeeze. It instantly took her back to that day on Geonosis. Her lungs felt as heavy as they had that day, straining for air amidst the shrapnel and dust. Oh, love. That sweet, forbidden, corruptive, inescapable curse. How had she not seen the truth to what Barriss was saying before today?

“We are pawns, Ahsoka,” Barriss continued, “And we are expected to not have any feelings about it. And it’s impossible for me to not have feelings, standing next to you in that beautiful purple dress, on my home planet with the snow and the trees and the sun! How can I not have feelings about marrying you when I have feelings for _you?”_

Barriss’s body went slack against her, head turned towards the ground, her fingers still intertwined with Ahsoka’s. These damned soldier’s hands, Ahsoka thought, as they sprung to life before she knew what was happening -- trained to react one step ahead of her brain. Still processing her own actions, Ahsoka cradled Barriss’s chin and closed her eyes, letting their lips fall together. 

Ahsoka waited to be pushed away -- for Barriss to realize what she had done again and bolt -- but instead, Barriss’s body relaxed underneath her, one shaky hand moving to caress Ahsoka’s lekku. She held her there, long after their lips parted, until Barriss slowly pulled away. Her eyes were filled with a warmth, a certainty that Ahsoka hadn’t seen for quite a long time.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you too.”

Ahsoka beamed and let her eyes close. The words that she had spent so long avoiding for fear they would poison her felt more like an antidote. Their truth, she thought to herself, and no one else’s. Finally, she opened her eyes and looked into Barriss’s. The blue of her irises looked black in the darkened cabin, like deep water.

“I vow to look out for you, to protect you, and to care for you long after the war ends. No matter what.”

A soft pink blush crept across Barriss’s nose and cheeks, highlighting her tattoos. She looked young, as if the damage of war had been erased from her, the weight of years lifted from her shoulders.

“I vow to cherish you,” Barriss said, “and to be open with you, and to love you. Jedi code be damned.”

“Is that it then?” Ahsoka said, “Are we married? Can I kiss you again?”

“I don’t believe we’re married yet,” Barriss said, “If I recall, there was another thing.”

Barriss didn’t give her time to answer before leaning over again, and pushing Ahsoka back into the mattress, one leg between her thighs. Her breath was warm, mingling with Ahsoka’s in her space. Then, the space was gone completely and she was kissing her. Ahsoka moaned low, to her own surprise and embarrassment, as Barriss doubled down. Her lips moved down Ahsoka’s neck, nuzzling her lek aside, and over her chest where the dress’s translucent material clung to her slip. Ahsoka could feel her nipples harden beneath the fabric, was sure Barriss could feel it too, as she gave a low hum of satisfaction into Ahsoka’s chest.

“I really -- this is _really_ against the rules, Barriss. We don’t have to --” Ragged breaths and all selfishness aside, Ahsoka didn’t want Barriss to do this for her. Not for _her._

“You should take off your dress,” Barriss’s voice was slow and deep, a candor Ahsoka had only ever heard before in her daydreams. It took her a moment to process that this was real.

“What?”

As though she hadn’t wanted this, and only this, for a long year and half.

“Take off your dress,” Barriss commanded, and with the steady hands of a good field medic, she reached forward to aid her.

***

Ahsoka woke up to bright streams of sunlight through the window, and the revving engine of a speeder. Barriss was still sleeping there, her black hair splayed wildly across the pillow, breathing deeply through her nose. Ahsoka couldn’t find it in herself to wake her, instead scrambling to find clothes for herself on the floor.

Their wedding dresses were strewn hap-hazardly, small lacy undergarments flung this way and that. Kriff it, Ahsoka thought and wrapped herself in a towel, just in time for Anakin to barge through the door.

“I thought I’d find you h-- Okay!” He turned beet red, dropping the keys to his speeder, and spinning directly back out again, “Kriff, Snips, Again?”

“What did I say about _knocking,_ Master!?” Ahsoka yelled after him, as Padme burst through the door instead, with Breha right behind her.

“I thought these might come in handy,” the senator laughed, tossing her a bag full of freshly ironed clothes, “There’s some for Barriss as well.”

Hearing her name, Barriss rolled groggily onto her back and rubbed her eyes.

“Senator? Lady Organa?” She mumbled, “What time is it? Where’s Master Unduli?” 

“Your Master is at the capitol, making sure the Chancellor gets all of the information for the treaty. He’s been very busy lately,” Breha said.

“Oh,” Barriss breathed a sigh of relief, “I’ll be right there as well. Just another moment to get ready, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” Padme said, “but don’t dally. We’re hoping to get off this world some time before the end of the rotation.”

The ladies left, and Ahsoka was once again left alone with Barriss. She grinned sheepishly, eyeing the door.

“G’morning. I’m sorry about my Master.”

Barriss giggled. “At least it wasn’t mine.”

She pulled herself from the bed and the pair began to dress and wash for the day. It was going to be a long time, Ahsoka thought, before she had the opportunity to be alone with her wife again. 

“So after this,” she said finally, as they lay, finally clothed and clean, side by side on the bed.

“Back to the medicorp,” Barriss said, “and you, back on _The Resolute?_ ”

“What other choice do we have?”

Barriss pulled herself up on her forearms. “You know, the war will be over some day.”

“Some day,” Ahsoka said, “we are going to take a very long honeymoon.”

They lay there in silence for a while, enjoying each other's company while the trees swayed back and forth outside the window.

“We should head out,” Barriss said silently, “I can hear them getting impatient out there by the speeders.”

***

There were four bikes, between the ones Anakin, Padme, and Breha had taken up this morning, and the one Ahsoka and Barriss had borrowed last night. 

“You can each take your own,” Anakin had said, “Ahsoka and I will be down in a minute.”

Ahsoka half-wondered if she was going to get scolded, for leaving the wedding party without warning, or for taking Anakin’s speeder. He had found them easily enough, she didn’t think it was worth complaining about.

When the three women finally helmeted up and rode off, however, Anakin’s face turned soft.

“I get it, Master,” Ahsoka started to say, “I shouldn’t have run off like that. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“No,” Anakin said, “That’s not it. I just wanted to let you know. I, er, know about you and Barriss.”

Ahsoka took a step back, her heart racing. How could he possibly? Even if he did know, why in the galaxy would he want to say it out loud?

“What do you mean, you _know_ about me and Barriss?”

“Well,” Anakin looked, “Love has a funny way of showing in the Force. It feels like a glitch, a little ripple, that echoes around and around in there. Usually, nobody could feel it but you, but since you’re my padawan, I can feel it too. I just wanted to, well -- as your Master, let you know it’s okay.”

“Wow,” Ahsoka could hardly process what he was saying. How could he know about her love -- her vile, poisonous, defiant little attachment -- and forgive her? He wasn’t going to tell the council. Her Master knew and she was going to get off scot free.

Suddenly, Ahsoka looked up at him, wide-eyed. 

“Oh _no,_ ” she said, “If you can feel it, that must mean Master Unduli can feel it too.”

I have to tell Barriss, she thought, she’s headed right into a trap.

“Ahsoka,” Anakin’s voice was firm, “Listen to me. I really don’t think Luminara will be able to tell.”

“Why? Are you the only Jedi with enough midichlorians to tell what love feels like in the Force?” Ahsoka brushed him aside, struggling for the keys to the speeder, “This isn’t funny, Skyguy. I need to warn Barriss before she goes in there and gets blindsided. No offense, but I really don’t think you’re that much better than Master Unduli at this.”

“Ahsoka!” Anakin snapped, “The problem is that I’m -- worse than she is at this. The problem is that I feel it too.”

Ahsoka stopped struggling and let her hands fall limply at her sides.

“Senator Ami --”

“I’m not telling you _who,”_ Anakin flushed. Ahsoka couldn’t help but smile.

“Are we gonna be okay?” She asked finally. Even as she said it, she wasn’t sure exactly what she meant. Were they going to be found out? Were they going to get in trouble with the council? Were they going to survive, even, to the end of this futile, bloody war?

“We’re Jedi,” Anakin said. He jingled the keys around his finger a few times before climbing onto the speeder and patting the spot behind him with his hand, “I think we’ll be just fine.”

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and feel free to reach out, you can find me on Tumblr by the same username.
> 
> One more note, on the matter of unreliable narrating and villainization of the Jedi in this fic and fandom in general:
> 
> I'm aware that canonically all adoptions of children into the Jedi temple were voluntary. I kept it intentionally vague in this story, but I think regardless of whether Jedi knights were going around abducting babies -- the cultural mythos of the Jedi as galactic protectors served as a powerful weapon in their favor. Fear of stigmatization if they did not offer their children to the Jedi is enough of a motivation for a culture to develop a distaste for them. Maybe Mirial did not want to be known by the galaxy as the one world who collectively decided to deny everyone more hyper powered super cops.
> 
> The same goes for how the code outlines attachments. Perhaps, canonically, attachments are defined one way, as possessive or controlling relationships -- but you also have canonical justification for members of the Jedi order struggling with feelings of repression, fighting to find balance in their relationships, or rejecting traditional relationships altogether. As you can see, Ahsoka is far more concerned about the order finding out that she's in love with Barriss than she is about them finding out she's having sex with her.
> 
> That's why I tagged this fic 'Jedi Critical' as opposed to "Anti Jedi." -- highlighting struggles that may occur when the nature of people + the rules of the Jedi interact. The juxtaposition of shame and pride. I hope that clears up my position.


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